A Helping Hand
by ArtemisEmerald
Summary: Pointless fluff. Preslash NickGreg. Greg gets sick and Nick helps out. 'Word challenge.' Read authors note for more info. This is not complete. Lots of people wanted me to continue, so it's now going to be multichaptered.
1. Chapter 1

CSI

Nick/Greg

Romance/Humor

Summary: Greg gets sick. Nick helps out. Pre-slash

Disclaimer: I so don't own the boys or CSI. If I did...well, lets just say that any and all subtext in the show between these two would be way more then it is.

A/N: This is just pointless fluff that I did from a list of words. They were: Crossbow, funny, nose, dagger, leopard, vampire, paper fan, books, bus, and knickknacks. As for Greg's apartment, well, despite this being so lacking in any thoughtful plot, I did spend a lot of time looking for the perfect place for him. I had seen these apartments in Omaha that were at an angle and while looking for the floor plans for such a place, I ran across the one I used in here and fell in love. It was totally Greg, in my opinion. So enjoy!

* * *

Greg blew his nose, wincing at the funny sound that emerged. What a time to get sick. He still wasn't sure if it was a cold or allergies, but he had taken some Nyquil that was stashed in his drawer. He was just glad that it had been so close to the end of his shift. He didn't need Grissom on his ass about passing out all over evidence. 

He shifted his backpack on his shoulder and traipsed down the road to the bus stop. He stopped at the first crosswalk for a red light and then stared up at the gray sky with a frown. It was starting to rain. That was just peachy. Screw the allergies, this was going to become a full fledged cold if he didn't make it to the bus awning before it got any harder.

He hated taking the bus, but since his car was at the mechanic and he had taken stuff that'll knock him off his feet in about fifteen more minutes, he really had no choice. He would've asked Nick for a ride, as it was on his way, but Nyquil always seemed to loosen his tongue and he didn't want to take the chance of spilling anything.

Looking up again, he noticed the light change and crossed quickly. Greg quickly moved down the sidewalk only to slow to a complete stop halfway down the block. His bus was early. In fact, it was pulling away.

"Damn it." He muttered. He whirled around, intent on heading back to the lab but a bout of dizziness quickly dashed that plan and he looked around. There was the small coffee shop that he liked to inhabit during his dinner break. They had tables.

He headed inside and bought a bottle of water before collapsing at the wrought iron table next to the window. He dropped his bag and pulled out his cell phone. He rubbed his eyes with a groan. The Nyquil was kicking in and making his contact list all blurry. If he squinted just right, he could make out Nick's name.

Pressing the call button, he held the phone to his ear even as he sneezed into the crook of his other arm.

'Stokes.'

"Nick? It's Greg."

'What's up, G?'

Greg sniffled as he felt another sneeze come on, "You still at work?"

'Just heading out…you okay? You sound a little stuffed up.'

"I'm sick." Greg finally couldn't hold it back and sneezed three times in succession, "Listen, can I get a ride home? I missed the bus."

'Yeah, no problem. You walking back to the lab?'

Greg slumped down, resting his head on his free hand, "God no. I was lucky to make it into Alice's. Medicines kicking in."

'All right, I'll be there in a minute. I'm at the truck now. Cool?'

"Yeah. I'll try not to fall asleep." Greg hung up the phone and stuffed it back into its pocket. He took a gulp of his water and turned to stare out the window. Sure enough, Nick pulled into a parking space across the street less then a minute later.

Greg pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his things before stumbling out the door. Apparently, he looked worse then he felt, which had to be bad, because Nick was at his side and helping him across the road and into the Tahoe.

"Shit, G, what the hell did you take?" Nick asked, concern coloring his voice.

Greg blinked, "Um, Nyquil. Good stuff that. Knocks me off my ass though."

Nick laughed, "That's stating the obvious." He shut the passenger door and ran around to climb into the driver's side, "All right, let's get you home."

"Hey, Nick?"

Nick glanced over at Greg before looking the other way to pull out into traffic, "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

* * *

"You know, Greg, we've been hanging out for two years and I have never seen the inside of your apartment." Nick observed as he pulled into the lot of the converted warehouse apartments. 

Greg coughed and undid his seat belt, "Well, now is your chance. I'm going to need help with the elevator. I'm not going to be able to open and close the gate myself."

Nick followed Greg inside and whistled as he took in his surroundings.

Whoever owned the converted warehouse definitely had eclectic tastes in decorating. It felt almost as if he had stepped back into the nineteen fifties. The floors were a warm wood; the walls were dark red and bronze and clean; Pictures of the building in its heyday lined the walls around the lobby. Old train station benches sat along the wall, book ended by miniature tree's.

Greg clanged his mailbox shut and smiled at Nick, "Pretty amazing huh."

"God yeah." Nick took one more look around before stepping over the old fashioned lift in the far corner, "Wow. You know, I don't think I've ever seen these outside of movies."

"Just pull at the handle for the first gate, then lift for the second."

Nick did as suggested and they both bustled in before Nick shut them. Greg pressed the fifth floor button before sagging back onto the comfortable bench that lined the back of the lift.

"How the hell did you find a place like this?"

Greg's grin felt a little silly. Maybe he didn't take enough Nyquil. He should have been passed out by now, "My cousin Andy had an apartment here. Actually, it's his place I moved into. He sub-let it to me until his lease ran out and then I just took over. It was nice. Didn't even have to look for a place."

"You should have seen my first apartment here in Vegas. I was afraid of walking outside at night. There had been a shoot out down the block, which is what prompted me to find another place. That's when I found the house." Nick said, as they came to a stop on the fifth floor. Nick pulled open both gates and Greg let Nick proceed him, knowing the kind of reaction he was going to get.

"Holy shit G, the wall's are curved."

Greg snickered, "I can see why you made CSI. Here, open the door. Five-D." He passed off the keys. His lock stuck sometimes and he wasn't in the mood to deal with it.

"Right." Nick led the way down, his hand trailing along the wall as if he couldn't quite believe the walls were actually curved. At the end of the hall, Nick unlocked the door and peeked inside before he opened it fully. It was all Greg could do to keep from laughing, "Well, it looks like you."

Greg pushed past Nick, pulling of his jacket as he did so. He dropped it and his back pack on the dining room table before continuing on to collapse on his _very_ comfortable couch with a sigh, "Feel free to look around. I'm thinking about passing out."

Nick closed the door and did as suggested.

The front door had opened up into a very large open area that Greg had separated into three sections. The first, the one that he was standing in, was a small sitting area with a desk against the wall. Just beyond that was the dining area and then the living room which held the second largest fireplace he had ever seen outside of his parents house, with built-in bookcases surrounding it. Nick's eyes followed the walls, which were completely open with floor to ceiling windows. The back wall in the living room area also had floor to ceiling windows, but he could see a little handle and small silver frame outlining a door. The kitchen was up a step and open to the rest of the room, separated by an island and stools.

Next, Nick went on to peaking through doors. The first he opened, just past the kitchen and off the empty area between the dining room and small sitting area, was Greg's utility room which held a state of the art washing machine and dryer. The next door along the same wall was a decent sized three quarter bath that was spotless and devoid of any products beyond soap. Following that was a coat closet.

Nick headed down the hallway and shook his head as it started to decrease in size as he went along. The first door on the left led to a small guest room. He figured it was only a guest room because the windows on the far well weren't covered in blackout shades and it was decorated minimally. So, that brought Nick to the last door.

He also figured that there had to be at least one more bath, but since this was the last door off the hallway, he assumed that it was on the other side of Greg's room. After a cursory search, he knew he was right.

Greg's room was...unique. There was a plasma T.V. that was hung on navy blue painted walls, his bed was a king four poster made of very dark wood. The sheets were maroon and the very thick comforter was black. It was covered with over-stuffed pillows that, in an odd sort of way, actually fit Greg, as well as a tatty, old stuffed leopard.

The slanted wall from the hallway continued through the bedroom, so his T.V. was actually facing the bed somewhat. There was no dresser, but Greg did have bookshelves along the walls that were stuffed to the brim with books and CD's, unlike the built in ones in the living room that held knickknacks and memento's along with his stereo system.

The bathroom was mixed Greg in Nick's opinion. He couldn't see Greg with such an opulent tub or another TV on the wall at viewing height for the tub, but the wide counter that was covered in hair care and skin care products was definitely him. Looking through another door, Nick finally saw why Greg didn't have a dresser. The large walk-in closet had a built in one.

He headed back to the living room and smiled at the sight that met him. Greg had managed to cocoon himself in his throw so that only his shoe covered feet and part of his face was showing. Nick carefully removed Greg's shoes and then headed into the kitchen. He knew a sure fire way to help Greg feel better faster, but he knew he would have to go shopping. It was just a matter of seeing what Greg had and didn't have.

A glance into the fridge showed Greg was not a food shopper. There were two take out containers and a pizza box. Soda lined the top shelf and one egg sat in the egg tray in the door. Nick shut the door with a wince and grabbed the notepad that was attached to fridge by a magnet. After a quick phone call to his mom, he had a list of necessities made out. Anything else he bought would just be grab and go as he went, but he needed the essentials. He wrote out a quick note on the sticky paper and, in a slightly jovial move, attached it to Greg's forehead.

* * *

Greg stirred awake, holding back a cough. He opened his eyes and instantly crossed them to see a piece of paper floating barely a centimeter in front of them. He scrambled out of the throw and pulled the paper from his forehead. 

_'G,_

_Ran to the store. Your fridge is bare, man. Be back soon. I'll remember the medicine and tissues, don't worry._

_Nick.'_

Greg felt the blush climbing up his neck. Nick was not supposed to treat him this way. Yeah, sure, they were friends, but Nick was buying him groceries! Hell, he couldn't even cook. Well, he could, but easy things. Okay, amending that even further, he could bake and he made some fantastic dishes that his grandpa Olaf taught him, but hell, he burnt spaghetti sauce. His own mother had actually banned him from the stove when he set an omelet on fire. If it required by the eye timing, he couldn't do it.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around. He wondered what Nick thought of his apartment. Did he catch the crossbow and daggers that decorated part of the island that didn't have a stool? Or the authentic Japanese paper fans that lined the hallway? If he did, just how much did it accent on his weirdness?

He got up and trudged to the bathroom, finally noticing the lack of shoes and cold wooden floor. He hated late fall. The downside to this place was that the wooden floors held the cold all to well.

Shaking his head and wondering how Nick gotten his shoes off without him waking, he trudged through his room to the bathroom. He didn't much use the one off the dining room because he hated to clean, and if he used it, it would have to be cleaned much more regularly then it was already.

Boy, did being sick put him in a gloomy mood. He seemed to hate everything at the moment. He used the toilet and changed into large, open ankle sweat pants, a baggy t-shirt and his ratty flannel robe. Or his 'sick robe' as he called it. He washed it and his blankets in a special detergent that he made his mom send him twice a year. It was comforting and reminded him of California and home.

He grabbed a book off of his shelves after he realized he wasn't going to be able to sleep until Nick got back with the medicine. A sneeze made him detour through the kitchen to grab some paper towel before he finally collapsed back onto the couch. He set the book on the table and smiled when he saw his bottle of water sitting right in front of where his face had been while he was lying down. He took a quick swallow to ward of a coughing attack he felt tickling his throat and then settled back into the cushions, opening the book to its bookmarked page halfway through.

Greg had barely made it into the next chapter when he heard his door lock creak, a sure sign that it was going to be stubborn. Curious to see Nick's reaction to this, he stood up quickly and, ignoring the bout of dizziness accompanying the sudden movement, headed into the sitting area, just in time to hear Nick start cursing rather colorfully at the door.

He laughed to himself and turned the lock, opening the door before Nick could kick it in. He enjoyed the brief look of surprise on Nick's face before holding his hands out for the two plastic and three paper bags Nick had lugged up in one trip.

"Thanks. Got a few more bags in the truck yet."

Greg's mouth dropped open even as he took the bags. Nick smiled and turned on his heal, heading back to the elevator. Greg left the door ajar and brought the bags into the kitchen, intent on going through them. He unpacked a few of his favorite pizza's from the first plastic bag, a grin lighting his face at the thought that Nick had remembered him raving about them. Next were a few individual pints of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, hash browns, and Popsicles. The other plastic bag held a four pound pack of ground meat, making him wonder if Nick was planning something. Four pounds was a lot for one person.

He then turned to the paper bags. One held a wide assortment of seasonings, surprisingly the expensive kind, as well as condiments and dressings. The next he found refrigerated items, like two containers of his coveted cottage cheese, juice, pudding, sour cream, and a few packages of different cheeses. The third bag held a full pack of chicken ramen noodles, which was his favorite, peanut better and a few kinds of jelly, syrup, bisquick, a couple canned fruit and veggies, and two bags of egg noodles, all topped off by a loaf of bread. After putting everything away, he had to laugh. Only Nick would pack his bags by where the food was supposed to go.

The shutting of the door clued him into Nick's return and he pointed to the meat and raised an eyebrow, "What's with all the beef?" He asked, then winced. It seemed his throat was also going to join in the fun, if the scratchiness was any indication.

Nick winced as well and pulled a bottle from one of the bags he was carrying and handed it over, "You can freeze it. All that take out can not be good for you."

Greg looked at the green bottle he was holding before setting it off to the side, hiding a sneeze in his shoulder. He may have needed it and the sleep that accompanied it, but he didn't quite want to drop just yet. Nick -was- planning something, he knew it, he just had no clue what, and he really wanted to find out.

"Nick, the only meat dishes I know how to cook take many hours and full beef cubes and stuff, not ground. I can't make anything with ground beef." He sniffled, then laughed as Nick dug back into the bag, producing those funky, germ killing tissues, "Trying to tell me something?"

Nick shrugged and set that bag down as well as a couple others and a potato bag, all three of which thumped when they hit the island.

Curiosity peaked, Greg pulled down the edge of the bag closest to him and found a large, frozen chicken, "What in the world?" He looked up at Nick and was surprised to see Nick's cheeks and ears flush red. He had never seen Nick blush, but had heard stories and they were right. It was totally adorable. It made you want to see if it could get darker or spread even more, "Nick?"

The Texan sighed and ran his hand over his head, "I'm gunna make you some of mama's get well soups. One's chicken noodle and the other is strogonoff. We'd always get sick of eating one, so she'd make the other. That's what most of the beef is for."

"Oh, well, don't let me stop you. Just, you know you really shouldn't use a frozen chicken, right? I do know that much."

Nick rolled his eyes, "I'm going to make the strogonoff first and put this one to thaw in water."

Greg smiled and his eyes weld up. Well, that was a new one. Apparently he got mushy when he got sick. Oh, well. Might as well go with the flow, "Thanks, man." He whispered and gave Nick a hug.

Nick returned it and Greg could have sworn he felt lips brushing his ear, but that had to be the cold talking. There was no way Nick felt the same way he did. He pulled away a few seconds later when he felt another bout of coughing tickling at his throat.

"This'll take awhile to cook, G. Why don't you take some medicine and crash." Nick suggested, his tone sympathetic.

Greg nodded. Now that he had wormed out Nick's little cooking secret, he was definitely going to make use of that suggestion. He grabbed the bottle and tissues and headed over to the couch. He sat down and opened the tissues then the bottle, dropping the wrapper on the table. Taking the prescribed amount, he grabbed his book, planning to read until the medicine kicked in.

"What'cha reading, G?" Nick asked, as he prepared the seasonings and vegetables he was going to need for both soups.

"Bloodlist." Greg replied, already deep into the plot.

Nick raised his eyebrows, "That doesn't tell me anything more then the fact that it sounds pretty gory."

Greg shrugged and finally looked up, "It's not all that bad. It's a vampire novel. This guy was turned into a vampire but he doesn't remember who did it or how he died. He also doesn't feel right feeding on humans, so he does so off of cows and stuff."

"You don't strike me as being into the whole supernatural stuff."

"Nah, not so much, but I like thrillers and my cousin left it behind when he left. I finally exhausted my books a few weeks ago so I decided to try it." Greg replied. His eyes were starting to droop, so he replaced his book mark and stood briefly to remove his robe before laying down and covering himself in the micro-fiber throw.

"Wouldn't your room be more comfortable?"

Greg yawned and grabbed a tissue when the yawn turned into a sneeze, "I like the couch better when I'm sick. I sleep in my room and I feel like I'm missing something." Greg allowed his eyes to partially droop and watched as Nick hummed in response.

Greg was partially to surprised to see Nick move around his kitchen comfortably. He could see his arm moving steadily as he peeled and chopped the vegetables for the chicken soup. He sighed a little to himself and snuggled deep into the thick cushions of his couch. What he wouldn't give to be able to watch this scene everyday for the rest of his life, was the last thought to cross his mind as he dropped to sleep.

* * *

Fin. 

A/N: So whatcha all think? My first posted CSI fic, so insight would be appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

CSI

Nick/Greg

Romance/Humor

Summary: Greg gets sick. Nick helps out. Still Pre-slash.

Disclaimer: I so don't own the boys or CSI. If I did...well, lets just say that any and all subtext in the show between these two would be way more then it is.

A/N: Well, nobody was satisfied with how I ended the last chapter, so I decided to continue this. Each chapter is going to be a word challenge. The words for this chapter are...Purple, Lizard, shield, Chinchilla, Sloth, Icy, Faerie, Point, Tissue, and Machine. This was not an easy list to comply with, but I did it. Still pre-slash, but there will be more chapters so you will see them get together...eventually.

* * *

Nick finished the soups about three hours later and went about cleaning up the kitchen. He was somewhat amazed that Greg was still out cold on the couch, but then again, he had taken medicine, so maybe it wasn't so surprising after all. He was wiping down the burner plates when a shrill sound rang out. Nick jumped and looked over his shoulder as he realized it was the land line, hoping that the noise wouldn't wake Greg.

When the answering machine kicked in, he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding as Greg just mumbled and turned over to burrow his face as far into the back of the couch as he could get it. He listened as Greg's voice filtered out into the living room and couldn't help grinning at what he heard.

"_Hi...It's time for your ten seconds of fame! Leave a message_!"

Nick shook his head, bemused. He had never actually called Greg's place before, preferring to call his cell, knowing that the chances of getting a hold of his friend were better that way.

'_Greg, It's Dr. Frank. We got the results of the test back this morning_.'

Nick stared at the machine that was sitting on the island...Doctor? Tests? What the hell? Why didn't Greg say anything to anyone?

'_Gizmo's fine. Just a cold. He's ready to go home_.'

Nick laughed in relief. Well, that explained why Greg didn't tell anyone, but that brought up the question of who the hell, or more like _what_ the hell, Gizmo was. He was pretty sure it was a pet, but on his walk through, he hadn't seen any indication of there being a pet present.

Deciding to take another look around, Nick started in the living room. He didn't see anything there except a large plastic rolling ball that was half hidden behind the couch. The dining room and entry sitting room were free of any pet indicators as well, but there were a few out of place branches and wood blocks on the desk. A search through the other rooms yielded just as much.

Nick saved Greg's room for last. He was coming out of the bathroom when he spotted it and realized how he could have bypassed it earlier without even noticing it.

There was a large, black cage set up in the far corner of the room, on the far side of the large bed. There were many levels within the bed height cage as well as a few boxes and a large wheel on the bottom level. Nick still had no clue what type of pet Greg had, but he did figure it to be a rodent of some sort, coming to that conclusion because of the woodchip bedding.

He headed back to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, digging into Greg's special stash without an ounce of guilt. He made himself a cup and stepped out onto the patio, taking in the amazing view Greg had of Vegas. He was far enough away from the strip that the tall buildings in the distance looked incredible and he could only imagine what it looked like at night. Sure, they had had crime scenes that had the same type of view, but they were usually too busy to appreciate anything beyond the scope of their work. To be able to see this every night had to be a treat.

Nick sat down on one of the bamboo deck chairs and looked in through the window at a slumbering Greg. Two years. For all the time they spent together, either at his house or out for breakfast with just him or the full team, he really didn't know as much about his friend as he thought he did. One of the things he had pointed out earlier was that he had never been in the apartment before.  
It was understandable once he really thought about it, though. Greg didn't even have a TV in the living room and they spent a lot of their time watching movies or playing games on Nick's Playstation. Also, a lot of the time, Warrick was with them and it was just more convenient to meet up at Nick's.

Now though, he was learning things about his friend and co-worker that were really endearing. The mysterious pet, the tattered leopard in his room, the...faerie wind chimes? Nick stared at the metal figurines that looked like they were dancing around different sized pipes. The one closest to him caught his eye and he stood to get a closer look. The faerie's were male. That was a bit of a surprise...he would have figured Greg to have female ones or something, had he actually thought that Greg had faeries anywhere.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

Nick looked over his shoulder and had to grin. Greg looked like a lost little boy. His hair was as wildly spiked as ever, his face was splotchy and red, and he was wearing his throw like a cape, with one end trailing on ground, "Yeah, but Greggo...males?"

Greg shrugged and coughed into his shoulder, "They were much better quality, actually."

Nick ushered Greg back inside and towards the couch, "Why are you awake anyway?"

Greg's eyes narrowed as he looked up at Nick, "You made my coffee! The smell woke me up, like it normally does, and then I realized I had to use the bathroom." He scrambled for the tissues and thrust one under his nose before sneezing hard enough to throw himself forward.

Nick caught his shoulders and eased him back onto the couch, warily watching Greg to see if anymore sneezes were forthcoming, "Vet called, by the way."

"Really? Did you answer the phone?"

Nick shook his head and handed Greg the small trash basket he had grabbed from the second bedroom earlier, "No, he left a message. Um, what kind of pet is Gizmo?"

"A chinchilla." Greg threw the tissue away and leaned back into the cushions, rubbing his forehead, "What did the message say?"

"That it's just a cold and he's ready to come home. You want some juice G?" Nick asked, heading towards the kitchen.

Greg groaned but nodded, "Could you maybe go pick him up for me? If he stays there overnight again I'm going to get charged boarding charges and those are really expensive." Greg sat up and his eyes widened, "That is, if you want? I really didn't meant to ask like that. That was really rude. I'm asking you to do all these things for me that I'm certainly capa-mph..."

"Chill Greg, I don't mind and ugh, did you have to lick my hand?" Nick pulled said hand away from Greg's mouth and wiped it on his jeans as he handed a smirking Greg his orange juice, "Which vet?"

"The one just down the road from here. It's hard to miss." Greg guzzled half the juice and put the glass on the table with a wince, "Oh, that hurt." He rasped. He stood up and went to the sink, decided water would be much better on his throat, "The money for his bill is on the desk."

Nick nodded and threw on his coat and grabbed his keys and the envelope that his keys were resting on that had 'vet' scribbled on it in Greg's nearly indecipherable handwriting, "I'll be back in a bit then."

"Oh, you got my key to get in?"

Nick grabbed the second set of keys off the desk and walked out with a wave.

* * *

Greg rubbed his eyes and tried to think of something to do. He didn't want to go back to sleep, as he was still feeling fuzzy from his former nap. His book really held no appeal at the moment and he didn't think he had the attention span to read, anyway. He most certainly wasn't hungry and his nose was so stuffed up that it was messing with the air he breathed in through his mouth.

He was feeling grungy and the musty smell that seemed to accompany every cold he had ever had wasn't helping. He knew he would love to stand under the pressure jets of his shower, but he also knew he didn't have the strength. With that thought, he decided on a bath. He didn't use his tub all that often, because his time between waking up and getting to work was limited.

As he walked through his room, he paused at one of the bookshelves next to the bathroom door that held his CD's and movies. He frowned over the selection, wondering what he should listen to. With the pressure building behind his ear drums as well as his nose, he definitely didn't want anything heavy in bass or anything 'screechy.'

Grabbing the shelf in front of him, he carefully squatted down and gazed at music he only listened to if he was feeling the need for something relaxing, which granted, wasn't very often. He pursued his odd collection, which ranged from AC/DC to a mix of zydeco bands and were all arranged by how often he listened to them, looking for a particular CD. It was a Celtic collection that reminded him of his dads mother, whom he had only met once in his life.

Pulling it out, he stood up slowly. His cold had progressed to the point that the pressure was throwing off his equilibrium a bit and when that happened, there was a good chance he would bypass dizziness and go straight to blacking out. It didn't happen often when he got colds, but it had once and he now decided to err on the side of caution.

Greg went into the bathroom and put the CD in the player on the ledge above the TV. He looked around a moment before spotting a purple bottle in a mesh basket on the floor. It was a special lavender bubble bath that also had a menthol underlay. He specially bought the stuff in the spring, when it was usually on sale for allergy sufferers and used it when his kicked in or when, like now, he had a cold. He turned on the tap and set the temperature to a setting just above body temp.

He was just about to pour some of the bubble bath into the cap when a sneezing fit over came him, causing his hand to jerk. After the last sneeze had subsided, he stared down at the tub in dismay, watching as an unholy amount of bubbles began to form and rise to the edge of the tub.

Shaking himself out of his stupor just as the bubbles threated to edge the top of the tub, he plunged his hand into the foamy mass and opened the drain, as well as turning the force of the water down. He peaked sheepishly over his shoulder, almost expecting Nick to be standing there smirking. He was glad for once that his vet liked to over-explain instructions when it came to sick pets. There was no way Nick would be back yet.

As the tub drained of all the bubbles, he got his towels ready, as well as grabbing a fresh set of pajama pants and underwear from the closet. Laying them on the back of the toilet seat, he turned to check the tubs progress. By now, half the bubbles had dissipated and he went to plug the drain and turn the water pressure back up. He missed checking the water temperature though and swore viciously as he caught arm full of icy cold water. He fixed it quickly and stood up to shuck himself of his clothes. He turned on the CD player and got in, letting the water rise about him.

His first thought as he leaned back into the padded back rest was that the bath would be so much better if the tub had whirl pool jets. His second thought was to quickly amend the first thought and make Nick lying behind him the thing to make it so much better. He sighed then and slid into the water until the bubbles reached his chin, a pout working a way onto his face at the thought.

* * *

Nick pulled up to the apartment building and shut down the truck. He sat there a moment, lost in thought, wondering what was coming over him. Here he was, jumping through hoops for Greg, happily he might add, and that was something he hadn't done since he had left home. Well, except that when he was back home, his 'hoop jumping' wasn't done happily. Back then, it had been a sense of survival, being the youngest in the house with four of his five sisters still living there as he grew up past toddlerhood.

He shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it before reaching over to grab Gizmo's travel cage. He was absurdly grateful that Greg had left it at the vets office. It had hit him as he was shutting off his vehicle in front of the vets office that he had had no way to transfer Gizmo back to the apartment and had almost left to go back and get something, when he had caught sight of the hours hanging on the door. Because it was a Saturday and in the afternoon, they had been fifteen minutes from closing, and it would have taken him almost a half an hour to get to Greg's and back.

He found that he hadn't wanted to disappoint Greg and so had gone inside to get Gizmo, just thinking of all the places a loose chinchilla could find to hide in a truck. The sight of the ash gray rodent ensconced rather unhappily in its travel case had been accompanied by an immediate rush of relief.

Nick headed up to Greg's apartment and carefully let himself in, not sure if Greg was sleeping again or not. He dropped both sets of keys back on the desk and looked towards the living room. He instantly took in the lack of Greg and, slightly worried, he hurried towards Greg's bedroom to drop off Gizmo into his cage before he started searching for the wayward lab-rat.

He nudged the ajar door with his hip and stepped into the dark room. His eyes quickly adjusted, thanks to the bathroom light, and the sight he came across caused him to stop dead in his tracks, barely two feet into the room.

Greg had dropped off again, lying on his stomach, three quarters of the way onto the bed. One of his legs was bent, pulling his lizard decked boxers taut across his ass, the other leg hanging off the bed at the knee.

Nick swallowed heavily at the sight and ignored the flush that was beginning to crawl across his face and neck. He started to head around the bed to transfer Gizmo to his cage. After doing so, he dropped the thick cloth that was laying on top of the cage down, to shield the light from the nocturnal creature. He turned his attention back to Greg and noticed the towel that was wedged half under his head.

He carefully tugged it out and went to return it to the bathroom, pausing to snatch another sopping towel off of the hardwood floor, using the other to sop up the excess liquid. He gaped at the condition of the bathroom as he dropped both towels into the wicker hamper by the closet.

Water was dripping over the side of the tub ledge, making a slightly bubbly puddle along its edge. A mostly empty bottle of bubble bath was on its side on the floor, though there wasn't enough inside for any to spill out. Greg's clothes were drenched from the water spillage, their position on the floor showed Nick that Greg had at least attempted to clean up his mess before he passed out.

With a sigh, Nick quickly cleaned up the mess. It didn't take him long and he was back out in the bedroom within ten minutes, pulling down the bedding on the side of the bed that Greg wasn't occupying. He then tried to wake him up, but other then a few indiscernible grunts, Greg didn't budge.

Nick bit back a growl of frustration. He stood there a moment, staring at his friend. He was tempted to leave him that way, but figured that wasn't the best thing to do, as the the cooling air could make the cold worse. Then it hit him. Greg was a shrimp compared to him. Maybe not in height, as Greg had less then an inch over him, but in muscle mass. It would be really easy to just pull and prod Greg into going under the covers.

Getting started, Nick quickly realized a flaw in this. Greg may have been smaller then him, but he was no light weight. He grunted as he tugged and maneuvered, before heaving a sigh as he tossed the covers over Greg. His blush was also back full force. Moving his friend had required a lot more body contact then he thought and it had dawned on him that Greg had really soft, smooth skin.

Now that that was accomplished, he headed towards the door, prepared to go home and crash.

"Nick? Where you goin?" Greg's voice floated to him, though it was whisper soft and slightly garbled.

"Er, home."

Greg's eyes opened slightly, giving him an almost puppy dog look as he looked up at Nick, "Stay? Please?" The question was still quiet, but it was a bit clearer.

Nick frowned, not really sure what to make of how this vulnerable side of Greg was making him feel. Though, he did admit he liked feeling needed outside of work, "Sure G. I'll take the bed in the..."

"No." Greg interrupted him, "In here?"

"Ok. Just let me get some water and tissues for you and get changed..." He trailed off when he realized he had no clothes with him and he really hated sleeping in his jeans, "Hey, Greg, do you have anything I could borrow?"

"Closet, pro'bly." Greg said, already happily snuggling down into his pillow.

Nick was back and staring at the bed not even ten minutes later. He had found a pair of large sleep pants that had Stanford's school emblem stamped on the hip and decided to forgo a shirt, for the simple reason that he couldn't find one large enough to fit him. Eyeing the space that was devoid of Greg, he figured there was plenty of room to actually go under the covers without worrying about any body parts touching without permission.

He crawled in and grabbed the remote for the TV. He turned onto his right side and between his body and the thick comforter, Greg was blocked from the glow of the screen.

Nick changed the channel to the Animal Planet and fell asleep almost instantly to a boring documentary on sloths.

* * *

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this one. Reviews don't make me write faster (which is really sad) but they do make me feel totally awesome and constructive criticism always helps me write better, so it would be totally cool if you left one or the other! 


	3. Chapter 3

CSI

Nick/Greg

Romance/Humor

Summary: Greg gets sick. Nick helps out. Still Pre-slash.

Disclaimer: I so don't own the boys or CSI. If I did...well, lets just say that any and all subtext in the show between these two would be way more then it is.

A/N: All right. Chapter three is here. Sorry it took so long, but well, the words weren't exactly easy this time. Anyway, hope you all enjoy. Word list is below for those of you who like to go back and look for them...which some people do do, apparently. _Grins_. Any mistakes are mine. I have no beta..._hint hint_.

**Rose hip, Pine needles, Khaki, Fish, Carrots, Dust Bath, Brush, Hawaiian Shirts, Sugar Cookies, Sour Cream and Onion Chips**

A/N2: I know Jacqui worked day shift and was back on night for the third season, but I'm not sure when the transfer happened exactly, but since this is taking place almost immediately before and through stalker, I just brought her back earlier by like, what four or five episodes? and a season break, but still...

* * *

When Greg fully awoke, it was to a slight snuffling snore being directed right into his ear. He shifted slightly and turned his head to the side, almost jerking back because of how close Nick was. There was barely an inch of space between their heads and he had a feeling that if it wasn't for the separation of the pillows, that inch wouldn't be there.

He managed to push his free arm under his chest to try and move, but one arm wasn't enough to shift the weight off of his back and his other was trapped rather uncomfortably under Nick's hip. He still had feeling in his fingers, however, so that might have been what had woken him up.

Greg jumped as his door chime rang through the room and that was followed by a cringe when he recognized just what his door chime was set to.

"Is that 'The Yellow Rose of Texas?" Nick asked, sounding far more coherent then he should have for just waking up.

Greg floundered for a moment, still berating himself for not thinking of his _unique_ bell tone and changing it before something like this happened, "Erm, maybe?"

Nick rolled over to sit up and Greg shook his hand out happily, "Where is it coming from?"

"My doorbell." Greg said as he tried to sniff and reached for a tissue instead when it didn't work. He rolled out of bed and sort of wobbled his way around and out into the hallway, not particularly caring that his boxers were dangling a little too low on his hips or that they fell a little bit more with every step. He reached the end of the hallway and practically bellowed out that he was coming as the doorbell rang again. His voice cracked halfway through the exclamation and he heard a hastily covered snicker from behind him.

Glaring at Nick, he unlocked and pulled the door open a crack, turning the glare onto whomever the unlucky visitor was, "Jacqui?"

The red-head standing on the other side of the door smiled, not at all affected by the glare her fellow co-worker and friend was sporting, "Hey. I'm here to drop off..."

Greg threw the door open and held out his hands in a 'gimme-gimme' gesture, "Rose hip tea?"

Jacqui shook her head, "Do I make any other kind? You are going to have to re-heat it though." She paused as Nick stepped into view, "Nick?" She asked, surprise coloring her voice.

Greg pushed past the CSI and into the kitchen to pour himself some of Jacqui's famous cold and allergy remedy, "How'd you know I needed this?" He asked as he grabbed a mug out of the dishwasher.

Jacqui leaned against the door jam and smirked as she watched Nick shuffle around some what uncomfortably, "I saw you take the Nyquil this morning. By the way, you might want to toss that bottle. It's expired."

Greg walked back to the entry sitting room and sat down on one of the khaki colored chairs, "That explains why it didn't fully work then."

"Oh, here. I had some leftover Rose hip. I was going to burn it down into oil, but there's not enough so I figured Gizmo may as well have it." She leaned down to grab the plastic bag at her feet and handed it to Nick to give him something to do, "You going in to work tonight?"

Greg looked at the clock hanging above the desk and saw it was going on nine. Figuring he had two hours to decide what to do, he opened his mouth to respond when Nick beat him to it, speaking for the first time since Jacqui arrived, "No, he's not."

"Excuse me?" Greg rasped. Granted he hadn't decided what he was going to do, but that wasn't the point, "Where do you..."

"Greg, your nose is stuffed to the point you can't even sniff anymore, your voice is just about gone, and you've started shivering." Nick pointed out, cutting off Greg before he could say anything rude that he would regret when he was feeling better.

Greg opened his mouth to state that it was just cold in the apartment, but yet again he was interrupted, this time by Jacqui, "You listen to Nick, Greg. Nip this in the bud. Besides, if you go in tonight, you'll probably infect everyone else." She grinned and reached to shut the door, "Tootles."

"Bye." Greg waved morosely and then leaned forward and started coughing. Nick was at his side in a second, allowing Greg to brace against him. The coughing finally subsided and Greg leaned back, trying not to take a desperately needed deep breath, not wanting to start the coughing up again, "Oh, that hurt."

Nick's answering smile was sympathetic, "Sounds like its moving to your chest. You haven't sneezed at all since we've...been...up..." He trailed off as Greg started sneezing, "Looks like I spoke too soon." He slipped an arm around Greg's back, "Let's get you back into bed. I'll call you in sick once you're settled."

"Okay." Greg was resigned to spending the evening in bed, until Nick left that is. He stood up with the help of the hand and arm around him. He moved too fast however and stumbled into Nick. He blushed and held back a moan, even though he couldn't hide the full body shudder. Nick's skin was soft and _so_ warm.

"C'mon." Nick kept his arm around Greg and led them back towards the bedroom.

Greg pulled away and mumbled 'bathroom' before stumbling through the door and closing it behind him. He leaned against it and gave a congested sigh. He was sick, dammit, he should not be lusting after his co-worker. Not that he could do anything with all the germies invading his body, but apparently certain parts of his brain were ignoring that little fact.

He used the bathroom and headed into the closet to find a pair of sleep pants. Sadly, he hadn't had time to do laundry lately and his three pairs of lounge pants were missing in action, probably buried under a mountain of shirts in his laundry room. Giving up, he began shuffling through his hanging shirts, looking for a worn t-shirt that would be comfortable to sleep in. He didn't have many and the one he had worn earlier before his bath had been the last one in the drawer.

He scored though, when he found an old t-shirt a friend had gotten him back in college that was an apple green in color and had 'DNA' on in it in a retro 80's style, with a smaller print 'Detroit Ninja Academy' underneath. It had burrowed its way in between two Hawaiian shirts at the back of the closet and he had to wonder for a moment why he had hung up a t-shirt before shrugging and tugging it on. At least the color matched the lizards on his boxers.

Greg coughed into his fist, forcing back most of it to keep it from becoming a full on attack. Shaking his head, he headed back out into the bedroom.

* * *

Nick puttered around the room while Greg did his thing in the bathroom. He pulled back the comforter, placed the mug of tea on the nightstand along with the remote and Greg's book, and also got some medicine ready. He also decided that while Greg was knocked out from the Nyquil, he was going to run to his house and pick up some clothes and a few other odds and ends.

He had a feeling, and it was a strong one as well, that if he left Greg to his own devices the man would not take care of himself. A fleeting thought crossed his mind that he actually enjoyed taking care of Greg, but he brushed it away for now, deciding to concentrate on getting his friend better rather than worry about his errant feelings toward said friend.

When Greg finally emerged from the bathroom, Nick snickered, "Nice shirt G." The snickering evolved into laughter when Greg just crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, "Real mature. Now take your medicine like a good little boy and hop into bed."

Greg coughed and grimaced when it was quickly followed by a painful sounding sneeze, "I really hate you right now." He rasped as he took the tissue and offered medicine cup, downing the Nyquil with a grimace.

"Uh huh. Are you hungry?" Nick asked as Greg climbed onto the large bed after dropping the small plastic cup onto the table, steadfastly ignoring the butt waving around in front of him as Greg arranged the pillows and his leopard to maximum comfort.

"God no." Greg paused and looked over his shoulder and Nick's breath hitched at the view, "I'll make some when I get up, don't worry."

Nick gulped and looked away, "All right. I'm gunna go call Gris and then take a shower. The remote and your book are on the table."

Greg pulled the comforter up and smiled at Nick, "Thanks."

Nick nodded and turned to head out, pausing when Greg caught his arm. He went through a small flash of deja vu and Greg asking him to stay, but apparently that's not what was on his mind this time, "Will you check Gizmo's food and water? I haven't checked it since before he went to the vet."

Nick walked around the bed and knelt at the chinchilla's cage. He lifted back the black cloth and smiled as the gray rodent squirmed deeper into its bedding, "Water's fine but he needs food. Where?"

"The cabinet right there has all his stuff. Go wild." Greg mumbled, obviously feeling the pull of the Nyquil.

Nick shuffled a few boxes of dust bath out of the way before locating the bag of food made especially for chinchilla's. It wasn't a particularly large bag and Nick gawked at the price tag that was still attached before opening the cage and filling the granite dish.

Getting up and walking around the bed again, he saw that Greg was just about out. His eyes were closed and his hand was resting really close to his raw nose, prepared to swipe at it. Nick smiled and flipped off the light, closing the door behind him. He headed towards the kitchen and grabbed the phone, dialing the lab and then Grissom's extension. Due to the still early hour, he was prepared to leave a voice message but to his surprise, Grissom actually picked up the phone.

"Grissom? It's Nick."

'Nick? You have the night off. Why are you calling?'

Nick leaned against the counter and looked down the hall to the bedroom, easily picturing the sick man sleeping in there, "I'm actually calling in for Greg. There is no way he is going to make it in tonight."

'Why are you calling instead of him?'

Nick actually laughed at that, "Because I don't trust him to stay home unless I take care of it. He was actually contemplating going in before and he can barely breath."

He could hear Grissom's chuckle over the line. They were probably the only two in the lab who knew that under Greg's joking exterior was a person entirely dedicated to his job and helping the people who worked there. He had only taken one vacation in the two and a half years he had been there and this was actually going to make the second sick day, 'All right. Thanks for calling him in so early. I'll go find the swing shift tech and let her know she's working over time.'

Nick grimaced, grateful that he wasn't working that night. The swing shift DNA tech was a witch. She didn't like anybody and made sure they knew it, but she was efficient which was the only reason she was still working at the lab, "Good luck. See you Monday, Gris."

'Bye Nick.'

Nick hung up the phone and headed towards the guest bathroom, intent on a shower. He wasn't looking forward to putting on his dirty clothes, but there was no way Greg's clothes would fit him.

His shower was quick and he was out the door and on his way to his house in under twenty minutes. He had checked on Greg before he left and was satisfied to see Greg sleeping, if not soundlessly. He had managed to drape himself over three piled up pillows and was cuddling the leopard close to his chest, mouth open and snoring loudly.

Pulling into his drive, he got out and went inside, heading first to the bedroom, intent on a clean pair of clothes. The kitchen was his second stop, his stomach yelling at him loudly for neglecting his own needs. He knew he wouldn't find much and before Greg had called him after work it had been at the top of his list to do some shopping of his own.

He luckily found an almost empty bag of sour cream and onion chips and finished them off within a few minutes as well as polishing off his last two, heavily frosted sugar cookies. He threw the bag away and looked around, trying to decide what the hell he was going to do that night. Whenever he had a night off, he usually spent the time cleaning, doing laundry, that sort of thing. If he was going to spend time at Greg's those options weren't going to be open. He couldn't go around cleaning Greg's place, not that it needed it.

Biting his lip, he went into the second bedroom that he used as a guest room and storage space, opened the roll top desk and sighed. He wasn't particularly sure if he wanted Greg to know about this talent of his, but he had a few unfinished pieces going and this mom was already on him about them.

Decisively, he grabbed a messenger bag off the floor and began packing the equipment he needed into it, as well as a sketchpad and two canvas boards. He dropped it by the front door and and went to pack a small over night bag for himself. With one last look around and before he could change his mind, he left, never noticing the white equipment van parked on the street, despite the odd time of night.

* * *

Greg groggily opened his eyes and moaned as he turned over onto his back. He must have slept like a damned log and on one side. His ear was painful to touch, a pretty good indicator that he had barely moved through out the time he was off in dreamland. He squinted at the clock and was surprised to see that he had been asleep for close to five hours.

His stomach decided to join in on the fun his body was having and growled, loudly and painfully. He was hungry but nothing, not even the soup that Nick had thoughtfully made, sounded good. He knew though, that he should probably force down a bowl unless he wanted to stay sick longer.

He got up and slipped off the bed, grabbing his robe that was resting over the foot board. He shrugged it on and made his way to the kitchen. Sadly, it never occurred to him that Nick might actually still be there and so it was a shock to see him spread out in the living room, art supplies surrounding him as he stared thoughtfully at a sketchbook on the floor in front of him.

"Nick?" He asked, ignoring the cough that worked its way out with the question.

Nicks head shot up and Greg could see a blush climbing its way up his neck. That spiked Greg's curiosity and he ambled over to peer over Nick's shoulder, gaping as he laid eyes on the sketchpad. It was a pastel drawing of a bird Greg had certainly never seen before. The colors were brown and white but there were two splashes of red above the beak and on the breast bone. Nick had drawn it so it was resting on a bed of pine needles and snow. It was amazing and looked _real_, "Nick..."

"Is it bad?" Nick asked, his voice barely audible.

Greg turned his head and coughed before shaking his head, "No. This is amazing. What kind of bird is it?"

"It's a Redpoll." Nick said, grabbing a lighter green pastel to add some highlights to the needles, "Kinda a rare bird in the States but I saw one once on vacation in Washington."

"It really is a fantastic drawing. I'm very much impressed." With that said, Greg saw that the blush was spreading and he stood up to head to the kitchen, not willing to make Nick any more uncomfortable then he probably was. He dug around in the fridge for one of the smaller bowls of chicken soup. He pulled one out and frowned as he opened it. He loved carrots and there were none in this bowl. How could one have chicken soup with no carrots? "Nick? You did put carrots in this, right?"

"Hm?" Nick looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, "Yeah."

Greg closed that bowl and put it back, pulling out another one. This one had some, but he had to poke around to find them, "What did you do, only use one?"

"Three. The selection at the market wasn't very good."

Greg humphed to himself and pulled out a plastic bowl, scooping some of the soup and only a few carrots out. He didn't want to eat them all at one time and he would probably not touch the soup again if he did. He tossed it in the microwave and leaned against the counter after pressing start.

From his position he could see the whole hearted concentration Nick put into his drawing. He could barely draw stick people, so watching someone with the talent that Nick had was amazing. The man carefully selected colors, placed lines and the colors in so carefully so as not to smudge or to overpower what was already on paper.

The beeping of the microwave dragged him from his watching and he pulled the hot bowl out, stirring it to distribute the heat more evenly. He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, even though he wanted some of Jacqui's tea. He just didn't want to take the time to heat some up at the moment, not with the way his stomach was growling.

He walked into the living room and sat down on the couch at the closest end to Nick. He looked at all of Nick's supplies that were laying out as he ate, noting one thing in particular that confused him, "Why do you have a paint brush out if your not painting?"

Nick looked up at Greg then followed Greg's finger, "That's not a paint brush, man. It's a typewriter eraser. Brushes away eraser shavings without smudging pencil lines."

"Huh. I suppose that makes sense." Greg lifted the bowl to his lips and drained the broth, smacking his lips when he finished. He wasn't sure what the hell Nick had put into the soup as seasoning and stuff, but he could actually taste it, a rare thing when his nose was as stuffed as it was.

He went back to the kitchen and sadly, tripped going up the step. He managed to catch himself and save the bowl from falling and breaking, but he had caught himself on the fridge. This cause a magnet to dislodge and fall to the floor, "Shit." Greg moaned, tossing the bowl into the sink and turning to asses the damage.

"G? You ok?" Nick asked, appearing on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Greg nodded as he picked up the two pieces of the magnet, "I'm fine, little dizzy. The fish, though, wasn't so lucky." Greg held up the halfmoon beta fish for Nick to see, "Split in two."

Nick took the two pieces, the head piece and the tail which was still attached to the round magnet on the back, "Greg...it's just a magnet."

Greg stood up and snatched the fish back and cuddled them to his chest, "Nick, my papa Olaf made this for me when his fish died. If you kinda hadn't noticed, it was the only magnet on the fridge."

"Sorry, I didn't know. Look, it's easy to fix. Just need some glue. Do you have any?" Nick asked, carefully taking the pieces back and matching up the edges.

"Um...no."

TBC...

* * *

A/N3: Well, hope you all enjoyed. Reviews are greatly appreciated...oh...and thanks to all those who reviewed before and I'm terribly sorry if I didn't answer back. I usually do. So...Thanks! 


	4. Chapter 4

CSI

Nick/Greg

Romance/Humor

Summary: Greg gets sick. Nick helps out. Still Pre-slash

Disclaimer: I so don't own the boys or CSI. If I did...well, lets just say that any and all subtext in the show between these two would be way more then it is.

A/N: Words for this chapter were: _Franchise, Blizzard, Clap, Camera, Graduate, Apron, Simplistic, Tournament, Garage and Floor._

A/N2: I want to thank my beta Jayceepat. She makes me look so much better then I am. Also, this list sucked to work with, so it kind of came out on the short side, but we can see the relationship progressing somewhat. YAY! Hurt/Comfort in this chapter, not that this story isn't just a whole wallop of that, but still...

* * *

Nick watched, bemused, as Greg walked back and forth from the dining room table into the kitchen. He could hear the refrigerator opening and then shutting every time Greg went in there. He shook his head and matched up the fish head to itslower half, making sure he didn't get so much glue on the two pieces that it escaped from the crack.

"Is there something you're looking for G?"

Greg sniffled, a sure sign his nose was clearing up more than likely in thanks to the spices of his mama's chicken soup and dropped down next to him at the table, "I want ice cream."

Nick raised an eyebrow and set the magnet on a piece of paper toweling before pulling off the rubber gloves he had put on to keep his fingers glue free, "Greg, I bought you what? Four pints of varying flavors?"

"I know." Greg said after a moment, a bout of coughing keeping him from replying right away, "But I want an Oreo blizzard from Dairy Queen." **  
**  
Nick shook his head, "Believe it or not, I really don't think a Dairy Queen is open at..." He looked over his shoulder at the clock, "Three in the morning. I think you're just going to have to stick with what I got."

Greg got up and went back into the kitchen, "Bummer."

"Grab me the strawberry cheesecake, would you?" Nick asked, smiling when he heard Greg swear at him. That was Greg's favorite flavor and after all the help Nick had given, he wouldn't be able to say no to the request.

The pint was unceremoniously set in front of him and Greg sat down in the same chair as before, opening the pint of cookie dough, "I suppose if I can't get Oreo,this is the next best thing. Probably be easier on my throat too."

Nick could tell his throat was still bothering him by the softer pitch and the winces that sometime emerged on the vibrant face when Greg talked. He felt a moment of guilt at taking Greg's favorite flavor but it was squashed at the look of pure bliss that crossed Greg's face as he ate his first spoonful of the cookie dough. He dropped his own pint and gaped, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight.

He never really paid much attention when they got ice cream before and he was damned glad he hadn't, because each of those times, Warrick was usually with them and the man did not need to see the reaction his body had because of Greg and _ice cream_.

He swallowed thickly and placed his hands flat on the table to keep them from wandering below. He was also insanely grateful he was wearing sweatpants instead of jeans.

It didn't make sense, he decided. This was probably the third and least provocative image Greg had made, unintentionally, in the last twelve hours, but DAMN; it was the most arousing. **  
**  
"Something wrong with the ice cream?" Greg asked, pointing his spoon at the pint?

Nick shook his head, "Nah, guess I'm not really in the mood for ice cream."

Greg popped another spoonful into his mouth and eyed Nick, though the Texan couldn't read the look. It was slightly disconcerting really and he had to wonder if this was how perp's felt across the interrogation table, "Mm." Greg pulled the spoon from his mouth, "What _do_ you want? 'Cause you do look hungry."

"Dunno." Was his reply though 'you' was definitely on the forefront of his mind, but he had managed to bite that response back. He prayed his t-shirt was long enough to cover the bulge below and stood up to go and deposit the pint back into the freezer. He was halted though, as Greg snagged the back of his t-shirt. That was becoming a really bad habit.

"You ok? You look a little flushed." Greg stood up and slipped a hand around Nick's forehead, "I really hope you're not coming down with this."

"I'm fine, G." Nick peeled the hand from his face, "Just a little warm," Which was a bit of an understatement once he thought about it, "I probably just knocked the heat up too high before. So I should probably get this back into the freezer." He waved the ice cream for emphasis.

"Oh, sorry." Greg dropped his shirt and sat back down.

"It's ok. I doubt the hold up has made it melt faster." Nick said. He placed the pint in the freezer door and shut it. A smile crossed his face when he heard Greg mumbling, probably louder than he intended to.

"It won't be my fault if he comes down with this cold. No siree, no blame pointed my way."

The hacking cough that followed wiped the smile off of Nick's face and he stepped over to the edge of the kitchen step, "Greg? Maybe you should take more medicine. That cough is sounding worse."

Greg shrugged and pulled the spoon from his mouth, "I don't want to sleep anymore and yeah, the coughs getting worse. My colds usually turn into bronchitis."

Nick's mouth dropped open. The way Greg spoke, it was a forgone conclusion that that was what was going to happen, "And this doesn't bother you at all?"

"Should it? I get a cold once a year, give or take. I'm used to it. I've got an inhaler in my bathroom for when it does happen, so don't worry." Greg said, before shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

It was on the tip of Nick's tongue to ask what good an inhaler would do for bronchitis, but decided he didn't want the headache of a long versed description. Not that Greg's voice would last that long anyway, with the way it was sounding at this point, "Since you seem to like Nyquil so much, I picked up some Dayquil when I went on the tissue run. Figured it would come in handy at some point. Will you take that at least?"

"K." Greg said around his mouthful of ice cream.

Nick grabbed the plastic Walgreen's bag and fished through it, suddenly wishing the only thing he _had_ bought was the Dayquil and tissues, but there was another package of glue in case the first didn't hold the magnet together, a disposable camera he had been planning to buy before the fourth of July, as well as a tub of Vick's vapor rub.

He had finally found it and was pulling it out of the bag when his cell went off, the ring tone he had programmed for Warrick buzzing around the room. He grabbed it off the counter and flipped it open, curious as to why his friend was calling during work hours, "Stokes."

'Hey man. How's Greggo doin'?'

Nick placed the phone against his shoulder and went to work on the protective wrapper of the bottle, "He's a bit better. I think he hit the worst a few hours ago."

"_He_ is standing right here, you know." Greg said, pulling the bottle out of Nick's hands.

Nick turned and leaned against the counter, tucking one hand into the elbow of the arm holding the phone. He watched Greg fight with the bottle, only half listening to Warrick.

'Tell him I heard that but that's not really why I called.'

"Okay? What's up?"

'There was a B & E a few houses down from yours. Did you leave your garage door cracked?'

Nick straightened up. "No, I had no reason to go in there. Wonder if the lock broke and I didn't catch it." He refused to jump to any major conclusions and he decided to ignore Warrick's mention of the B & E.

'I'll stop and check when Cath and I head back to the lab, cool?'

"Yeah, thanks man." Nick hung up the phone when Warrick signed off and took the bottle from Greg, wrapper still intact, "Where are your scissors?"

* * *

Greg scratched the back of his head and looked around the kitchen. That was a pretty good question. The last time he had used his scissors was when he had bought the new floor mats for the second bath, which was a couple of weeks ago, and he had put them...he pulled open the drawer closest to the bathroom and pushed aside a barely used apron his mother had gifted him with. Sure enough, the scissors had slid underneath them and were jammed partially under a cork board pot holder.

Greg handed them to Nick and shut the drawer with his hip. He really hoped that this stuff kicked in as fast as Nyquil, because he could feel the tickling in his chest getting worse and shallow breathing could only do so much in holding back coughs.

He drummed his fingers on the island as he took the orange medicine from Nick. It was so quiet. Normally on his nights off, he had music blaring through his headphones as he did his housework, worked on his logic and variety puzzles or even knitted.

"I'm bored. In an antsy, there's nothing productive I want to do sort of way." Greg said, setting the plastic cup down.

Nick snorted, "I can tell. That finger tapping is kind of annoying."

Greg looked over at his fireplace as he stilled his fingers, where he had two wicker picnic baskets placed on the hearth, "Well, I got something to do, but...you gotta promise me you won't laugh."

"You didn't laugh at my drawings, so why would..."

"Nick, your drawings are incredible," Greg said, interrupting him, "You've got an amazing talent." Greg made himself a fresh cup of the Rose hip tea before heading into the living room.

Setting the cup down on the coffee table, he grabbed the red cloth rimmed basket and a leather roll case from the shelf. He set both down on the middle couch cushion and dropped down in the corner. He then watched and waited for Nick to settle and become engrossed once more in his drawings before opening the basket.

He pulled out a light purple, silky skein of yarn that had needles attached, deciding to work on the sweater for his mom. Her birthday was a month away and he still had the sleeves to make. The sweater pattern itself was pretty simplistic, the back, front, and two sleeves. He could even sew them together when he finished. What worried him was the crocheting that needed to be done at the end. He had never been able to pick up on that particular craft.

Greg was really getting into the rhythm and already had about four inches finished when he took a small break to ward off the tickle forming in his throat with the tea. He happened to glance at Nick who was staring at him, a shocked expression on his face.

He sniffed and wiped his nose on his shoulder, his hands too full to go for a tissue, "What?"

"You knit."

"Thank you Mr. Obvious." Greg muttered, looking down at the needles in his hand.

He heard Nick shuffling around before his yarn basket was moved and the cushions dipped as Nick sat next to him, "No, Greg, it's not a bad thing. Where'd you learn?"

Greg sighed and finished off the row he was on before marking it down on the pattern and setting the sleeve on his lap, "I broke my leg when I was seven. It was a small racing tournament and the hill was steep. Anyway, I was in a full leg cast, foot to hip and by the second week I was going stir crazy. My nana had had enough and surprisingly had the patience to teach me. Got good enough that I started making things for my friends. Hats, wrist bands, socks...my mom used to say I could be good enough to start my own franchise."

"Wow. That's...really impressive. You have anything around here that's finished?"

"Nope, but you have seen something that I've made."

Nick raised an eyebrow and looked down at the sweater pieces, "G, when I said finished I meant..."

Greg smacked Nick on the arm with the back of his hand, "I know what you meant. Who had Sara for Secret Santa?"

* * *

Nick scratched the back of his head, "Um, you did, but..." He trailed off as he thought back to Christmas. The Secret Santa had been a week long and had four smaller gifts through the week followed by one large one on the last day, to be given in person at the party.

Greg had gotten Sara a beautiful winter kit, all knit and obviously handmade. Gloves on the first day, a hat the second, followed by a scarf, another hat that had devil horns on the top, and a sweater. All had been in various hues of red, Sara's best color, and she had known by the devil hat that Greg had her name.

Nick blinked, "You made those."

"Each and every piece." Greg said with a nod, "Most were done already as gifts but I hadn't decided on who to give them too. The only thing I had knit up specifically for Sara was the devil hat." He laughed a bit as he recalled back, "I remember her thinking I either scrounged them off some old lady or went to a craft show. It was hard holding my tongue."

"Especially for you." Nick said with a smile. When Greg didn't answer, he looked over at him, wondering why. Normally Greg would come up with a scathing or humorous retort, so he was a bit worried to see a sad look on Greg's face, "G? What's wrong?"

"I was just remembering. For graduation, college not high school, I had knit up a sweater for someone. It took me months, because I had gotten out of habit. I chose a style they liked as well as their favorite colors. When I gave them the sweater, they said that they thought it was a bit outdated and that they probably wouldn't wear it. Sara, for all the personality that she has but hides, liked those things and her sweater so much, and I still barely know her." Greg replied, sniffling both from the stuffed up nose and the painful memory.

Nick, who had listened with growing anger at the insensitive person, pulled Greg into his arms and ran his hands up and down Greg's back, "Whoever that person was, if I had been around to hear that, I would have balled their ass out."

Greg rested his forehead on Nick's shoulder, relaxing into the hold. He chuckled then, "You would have been too late. My friend Chellie got to him first. He had a black eye for the ceremony."

"Good." Nick's hands stalled as he went over Greg's words, "He? Was he a close friend?" Nick had to bite his tongue to keep himself relaxed. The thought of Greg being close enough to another guy to knit him a sweater bothered him more then he cared to admit, and it was a struggle to keep the green-eyed monster at bay.

"Kinda." Greg replied as he struggled slightly to pull away from Nick's hold.

Nick's right hand traveled up to tangle in the base of Greg's hair to keep him where he was. It was comfortable and Nick really didn't want to relinquish the feeling, "Kinda? You spent months on a sweater for a friend you were kinda close to?"

"He was my boyfriend." Greg spilled out, before clapping his hand over his mouth and pulling away to stare at Nick with wide eyes full of shock at his own admission.

* * *

A/N: There you have it. Chapter four of A Helping Hand. Again, my many thanks to Jayceepat for putting up with my whining and complaints of being stuck. I had to have been a pain in the ass. Oh, and also my apologies for the length. If you got to this you've already read so please review! 


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